Honeybee
by AlyssGrey
Summary: Oneshot with middle-school Rachel and Kurt. Tiny ficlet thing. Not going to get any bigger. Read it anyway! 3


She didn't see me.

She mustn't have, because she wouldn't ignore me like that.

Would she?

Of course not. Quinn was, no, Quinn _is_ my best friend. Always and forever.

She looks so cool, so put together. She doesn't look lost at all, leaning against the row of lockers, checking her schedule. In that mini-skirt and tank top, she doesn't even look like a sixth grader.

Or my best friend.

I tug at my own clothes, the knee-socks and blue polka-dot dress that Quinn and I bought together. The one we swore to wear together, today. I feel childish and outdated, like an old edition of those magazines that Quinn likes to read. Ugly.

Santana and Brittany arrive at school together, both dressed similarly to Quinn. I smile, even though we've never been close, because I'm desperate for someone to talk to.

"Hey Santana, hey Brittany!" I give them my brightest, best voice that my acting coach, Mrs. Taggart, loves.

"Hey, man-hands!" Santana answers in an equally chipper voice. "Did a four-year-old puke on you, or is that what's hottest on _Barney_?"

I feel my face recoiling, the hurt spreading over it. Santana might not be my best friend like Quinn, but she's never been mean to me before. I look to Quinn in desperation, but Quinn, she's laughing. She's laughing at me. And before I have a chance to say anything back, something cold and wet splashes all over my face, my dress. A Cherry Icee, sent my way from Dave Karofsky.

I can't help the tears that fall down my face as I run down the hall, out of the building, as far as I can get.

I end up in the park behind the nursing home. It isn't the kind with swings or monkey bars, but the kind with every sort of flower and tree imaginable. I've been coming here ever since I was a little girl, whenever I needed to be alone, when Dad and Daddy aren't enough. I crouch down in the dirt, not giving a care about stains. The dirt I dig my fingers into is the good, crisp kind, soft but not sticky. The grass smells like hope and sadness and _Mother_, all the things I know when I'm alone.

But today I'm not alone. A boy is here, red ice coating his face as well. His name is Kurt, I remember him from last year. Even then he was picked on; his voice too high, his skin too delicate. Dave Karofsky and his friends said the same bad things about him that they said about my fathers, the words I hated to hear. The thing about Kurt was that he never seemed to mind them. Apparently things ate different in middle school for him, too.

"They got you to, huh Rachel?" He asked in his sad voice. Kurt always sounded sad.

"Yeah."

We sit in silence, both of us unsure what to say, until Kurt gets up and hugs me. He smells the same way Daddy does, like Burberry, Touch for Men. I hug him back, harder, and the next thing I know I'm crying again.

"Shh, Rachel, it's okay." He whispers to me. "Let it out. You can tell me about it."

And I do. I tell him about how it is to not have a mom to confide in, to have no idea how to deal with girls like Santana. I tell him all about Quinn, even about her mom and what happened last summer. And he tells me that he doesn't have a mom either, that he understands, because he's always felt more like a girl. I learn about his feelings for boys and the way he can't fit in, no matter how hard he tries. He learns how hard it is to be the only Jewish girl in the school. And when we're done talking, the sun is setting.

"Jesus Christ! My dad is going to have a cow!" Kurt visibly paled when he saw the sky.

"Mine, too." I grimaced. "Where do you live?"

"On the other side of town from you, honeybee."

"Oh." I sigh, disappointed. "I was hoping we could walk home together." He shrugged at me.

"It doesn't matter. We'll see each other at school tomorrow, right?"

"School?" I couldn't imagine going back.

"We have to face them, Rachel." Kurt looks me directly in the eyes. "I'm not giving up, and neither are you. How can you be a star with no education?"

"I guess you're right." I turn to leave. "See you tomorrow, Kurt."

And when I get home, tomorrow doesn't seem that bad, even when Dad and Daddy yell at me and make me promise to never, ever, cut school again. I have one friend. And right now, that's all I need.


End file.
